


Cold Weather

by PrimerPaint



Category: Initial D
Genre: Bunta being a great dad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Initial D Third Stage, Mentions of Mogi Natsuki, Nothing is depicted or described, She deserves her own warning, Takumi gets the hugs he deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25714384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimerPaint/pseuds/PrimerPaint
Summary: Never in his life had Takumi had to deal with something like racing up the snowy slope of Mt Akina to chase down and rescue Natsuki. He doesn't know what to think about what Natsuki told him about what happened, could have happened should he have not found them in time. So when he finds himself standing in the doorway to the living room of his house, his dad sitting at the low table, he's never been so thankful.__A post-Natsuki rescue from Third Stage, mostly just Bunta being the fantastic dad he is.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Cold Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for referenced attempted rape/non-con, but nothing is specifically described or even talked about.
> 
> Most of this was betaed by the super awesome super cool parangari, tysm ;w;

Takumi felt numb as he rolled up in front of the familiar tofu shop, and backed into the single lane parking lot with the Trueno. His mind was empty, his lips chapped, and he was operating solely on the hard-worked habit he had built up over the years of doing deliveries for his father. The snow had picked up again sometime between dropping off Natsuki and his drive home.

...Natsuki. 

He’d just gotten back from racing up Akina to help her after receiving that horrible phone call. The memory of the night’s events made his throat tighten, and as he leaned forward to rest his head against the steering wheel, he dimly noted he’d already turned off the car. The cold from the outside was beginning to seep into the small cabin, and though it slithered under his clothes Takumi couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared blindly at the steering column, doing his best not to think. 

He doesn’t know how long he sat in the Eight-Six, but by the time Takumi moved, he could see his breath. A thin layer of snow on the windshield filtered the street lamp’s amber glow. This evening’s events continued to haunt him, forcing him to move, to get out of the car, to distract himself with something so he didn’t have to consider what could have happened to Natsuki should he have not been there to answer the phone, should he have-

Robotically, Takumi climbed out of the Trueno and walked to the door. The outside lights were still off, and as he entered and took off his shoes, he distantly noticed that the light in the living room was on. The house was a lot warmer than it had been outside. Strange, how when he’d been getting out of the Trueno to help Natsuki from the Celica it didn’t seem so cold as it was outside. 

He was standing at the door between the shop and their living room when he heard a cup hitting the table. Blinking blearily, he looked over to see his old man putting down a mug of what was most likely coffee as he watched Takumi. 

“It's late,” he said, prompting Takumi to look across to the clock. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. His alarm would be going off in almost fifteen minutes to get ready for the deliveries at four. 

Silence reigned throughout the room. Bunta put down his cigarette, still watching Takumi warily. Takumi was aware that his lack of an excuse would worry his father, but the fact that Takumi had stood in the doorway for nearly five minutes with that same hollow expression would worry him more. Another minute passed before Bunta apparently had enough, and broke the silence once again. 

“Takumi.” 

It jerked him from whatever trance he was in, and those wide blue eyes snapped over to Bunta. Takumi’s expression finally changed, the tightness in his throat becoming unbearable as the weight of the night’s events crushed down on his chest. His eyes felt uncomfortably hot, and he shifted on his feet uneasily. The noise and the thoughts and the worries in his head grew to a deafening roar. Takumi’s vision suddenly got blurry, and he blinked in a vain attempt to clear it. 

Raising a hand to rub at his eye, he looked to Bunta as he suddenly felt very alone. Were he any more aware, Takumi would have felt embarrassed at the way his voice broke as he croaked out a weak “D-Dad-.”

Bunta was up the next moment, moving across the room with a few quick strides and reaching out to steady Takumi before he fell on the tatami mats. It was rare that Takumi called him anything other than ‘old man’ nowadays. Takumi watched him, eyes watering and he weakly reached out for Bunta as he drew near. His mouth opened and gaped helplessly like a fish a few times, Takumi feeling every ounce as helpless as he looked. 

A firm grip on his shoulders led him further into the room, close to the table and cushions in front of the television. “You were gone when I got back,” Takumi heard Bunta say as he sat down weakly onto one of the cushions. His father hesitated, before kneeling down beside him. “What happened, Takumi?” 

Memories of the fear he felt as he listened to Natsuki’s voice through the phone, of how quiet the house was in the dark and how loud she sounded as the desperation drove an ice stake through his heart. Of the adrenaline racing through his veins as he raced up Akina’s slope in the thick snowfall, of how the first thing he thought when he chased the Celica downhill was how to make the car spin-out. They all crowded into Takumi’s brain and he hiccuped slightly as he tried to take a steadying breath. He spoke a bit too fast, looking down at his hands in his lap, and his voice cracked again as he fought against the tightness in his throat. 

“Earlier, N-Natuski, the uh, the girl from Christmas? S-she called and she sounded so scared and she told me to come, that she needed help, that she was by the lake.” Takumi took a wobbling breath as he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, “S-so I took the eight six, I took it to Akina because she meant Lake Akina, a-and it's covered in snow and when I was going up I saw this car, this dark Celica, coming down the hill at me and as I passed it I saw her, I saw Natsuki, s-she was sitting in the car with some guy, h-he graduated I think? I, I don’t, I don’t know but I was so _scared_ , Dad, I turned around as fast as I could and followed them down.”

Takumi took another breath, this one substantially less calm. “H-he, I didn’t do anything, he just spun out, h-he hit the rail, but not too bad. I, uh, I stopped and I went to help Natsuki, s-she ran towards the Trueno and s-said that we just needed to leave. S-So I took her off the mountain, I t-took her home and on the way there she told me, she told me what had happened, h-how that guy had picked her up from work a-and how she didn’t want to go, a-and that he was going to- to- a-and that if I didn’t show up, i-if I didn’t _answer the phone_ she would have- she could have-”

By now his cheeks were wet and Takumi gasped for air, struggling to form words to continue to say what happened. His hands were tightly balled in his lap, his shoulders were shaking, and his vision just continued to get even more blurry. Before he could say any more, however, he was suddenly pulled into a very warm hug.

Instinctively, Takumi wrapped his arms tightly around Bunta in response, hands gripping at the back of his shirt. As he buried his face into his father’s shoulder, a hand came up to hold his head reassuringly, and he could do nothing but cry. Sobs wracked his body as Takumi came down from the adrenaline and the stress finally broke from the night's events. 

The brunette has no idea how long he cried for, nor how long his father simply continued to hold him afterwards. Eventually, though, after his breathing had calmed down some, Takumi weakly lifted a hand and pushed himself away from Bunta’s grip. His father let him go willingly, but sat ready to move at a moment’s notice.

His eyes were puffy and red as Takumi moved to rub a hand across his face numbly, closing his eyes. The silence held for a few more minutes afterwards, and only when his hand fell into his lap and Takumi opened his eyes did his father speak. 

“I’ll take care of the deliveries this morning. When I get back you can tell me whether or not you want to stay home from school,” he had put out his cigarette and moved the ashtray further down the table. When Takumi didn’t answer, Bunta put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet, moving towards the kitchen to put on a kettle. 

“I’ll make you some tea,” he said as he walked away, coming back after to lean on the doorway slightly, arms crossed. “Help me put the tofu in the back of the Trueno.” 

Only when Bunta had made it across the room and was slipping on his sneakers did Takumi move. Nearly robotically, the brunette made his way into the shop and lifted one of the heavy tofu containers, following his father out the door towards the small hatchback. Snow had continued to fall since he’d last been outside, and it now coated the top of the car completely. HIs father didn’t seem to care, opening the hatch and loading the flats. 

By the time they made it back inside, the kettle had just begun to whistle and without a word Bunta went to tend to it. Sitting down, Takumi slumped down against the coffee table, head in his arms. A gentle ‘ _thunk_ ’ had him lifting his gaze, finding a steaming mug sitting before him. By the smell of it, it was a sort of chamomile tea he hadn’t had since he was a kid. A warm hand plopped onto his head, and his father’s calm voice was a comfort when he spoke next. 

“Drink this then go to bed,” the television clicked on, Bunta turning down the audio so it was nothing more than background noise. Looking over, he seemed to have put on the weather channel, forecasting more snow. 

The hand ruffled his hair a bit before pulling away. Takumi pushed himself up and off the table, hand sliding across the wooden surface to clasp around the warm mug. The next time his father spoke, it was further away, like he had reached the door already. 

“I’ll be back soon,” a jingle of keys as he pulled the Trueno’s off the key hook Takumi had instinctively put them on, “I turned off your alarm already. Just get some rest.” Soon enough he heard the sound of the Eight-Six pull out of their driveway and head towards the highway. Sighing, Takumi took a sip of the tea and leaned his head once again against his arms, looking blankly at the television. His mind buzzed, but he refused to let himself think about one individual thought. So he simply allowed himself to be lulled by the chamomile and the buzz of the forecaster.

When he woke, the television was off and there was a heavy kakebuton covering his shoulders. Stiff from laying against the table, Takumi sat up and stretched his back, hands coming up to hold the warm blanket tighter to him. Noise in the shop pulled his attention, and the brunette blearily looked through the door to see his father moving about the machinery. 

With a yawn, Takumi looked at the clock, head feeling heavy and nose stuffed. It was nearly seven in the morning. His body ached from yesterday's stress, and the cold weather only made the kakebuton more welcoming. The tea mug from earlier sat half-empty and cold before him.

“Takumi,” Bunta said, and he jolted slightly in surprise. His father was holding up one of the blue fabric dividers at the doorway, looking at him. “You wanna stay home?” 

He thought of it for a moment, thought of how if he went to school today he’d have to be pestered by Itsuki about who knows what. About how if he went to school and saw that Natsuki wasn’t there, how that would be worse if she was there, watching him. About how she might want to talk to him about last night. Takumi let out a shaky sigh, pulling his shoulders forward slightly before looking back to his father. 

“Yes,” he said, then cleared his throat. Quieter, Takumi added, “please.” 

Bunta shifted, pulling a cigarette out of the carton. “Hm,” he lit the cigarette, putting away the lighter. “Then go take a shower ‘n come help me with the tofu today.” He disappeared back into the shop after that. 

Takumi sat a moment longer, before getting up to climb the stairs to his room, taking the comforter with him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published Ini D fic! Lmao I just thought that the whole natsuki and the celica deal was super stressful, and I figured Takumi would have probably took it a bit harder than what was depicted. The working title of this is "Bunta is a great fucking dad", and its mostly an excuse for me to write bunta giving takumi the hug he deserves. 
> 
> Lmk what you think! Thank you for reading ^^


End file.
